


A Little Piece of Heaven

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Eye Trauma, M/M, Murder, little piece of heaven au, reincarnation gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean isn't exactly sane in this reincarnation.  But that's okay, Marco still loves him...Right?</p><p> <br/>Based on the song A Little Piece of Heaven by Avenged Sevenfold</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Piece of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OverMyFreckledBody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/gifts).



> I'm not sure if I put enough warning tags, 'cause lemme tell ya when I say I grossed myself out while writing this 'cause I did extensive research that isn't even really mentioned in this.

   Okay, before we get into the nitty gritty of what happened, and how I’m now cruising cross-country with my perfect angel covered in my blood, just listen to me for a second:  I didn’t intend for this to happen.  I just wanted to keep Marco perfect forever.  He was just so perfect…Not that he isn’t now.  I almost feel like he’s more gorgeous now, when he’s covered in someone else’s blood and pulling me in for a kiss...

 

* * *

 

   Anyways.  I guess this all really begins when I was around ten years old?  That’s when the nightmares started.  I thought they were nightmares at first, but then I found friends who shared the exact same nightmares and realized they were memories.  Which was really shitty, because almost every night for three years, I’d wake up screaming and crying because I couldn’t save Marco.  The friends I found with the same nightmares kind of understood, they had someone they’d wake up screaming for.  But the person they woke up screaming for, they had found.  Mikasa had Eren just down the hallway, Reiner had Bertholdt down the street, and Connie had Sasha on the other side of town.  And I...I was alone.  

 

   I kept my eye out, but I couldn’t find Marco.  I hoped he was born when we were, but there was that lingering fear that he just wasn’t existing in this here and now.  High school passed in a blur, with no Marco in sight...But I was no longer trapped in Trost.  I could go looking for Marco.  Or, at the very least, someone who looked like Marco.   I took a job at Trost’s morgue, so I could afford to go and find him.  Probably the best idea I had in a long time.  I was no longer as fearful of death as I had been.  And the preservation process was...Interesting.

 

   It was definitely not the most glamorous life, but hey, I could afford to survive and search for him a little bit.  Connie, Sash, and all the others left for college, but we stayed in contact.  I think initially they had all been hoping to help me find Marco, because they all went to colleges around the entire country.  Connie kept the closest contact with me though, texting me every morning and evening just to make sure I hadn’t gone insane or something.  I probably would’ve gone insane, with no one to really talk to about the memories.  It wasn’t a surprise when I woke up on September 5th to a text, but the content of the text was surprising.  A blurry photo of a tall man with the same galaxy of freckles as I had seen in my dreams moments before, courtesy of Connie, captioned with “JEAN LOOK I THINK I FOUND HIM!!!!”.  I was so fucking excited.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t just take off of work without notice to find this guy who may be Marco, but I had Connie to investigate him for me.  All it took to convince him to do it for me was a promise of all the chocolate chip pancakes he could eat when he came home from college.

 

   All I could think in the weeks as Connie slowly slipped me tidbits of information about this man, was that it had to be Marco.  It just had to be him.  Same height, same smile, same freckles, same hair, same personality...It took me a week to find a job offer in Jinae that would fit with my skills, and with glowing recommendations from my boss Pixis, I was soon packed up and on my way to Jinae too.  Conman was definitely excited to see me, and he had apparently told Marco that a friend was moving to town and would need some help unpacking, as he showed up too.  The pictures Con had sent me didn’t do him justice; his smile was even more brilliant, and it took a lot of willpower to not melt into a puddle of goop when he introduced himself to me.  

 

   Everything after that felt like a whirlwind.  Marco was so easy to get along with, just like the one from my memories, and so trusting, but...He couldn’t remember it.  He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t remember (Armin and Sasha couldn’t, and apparently Eren had found Captain Levi and he couldn’t remember either), but it hurt nonetheless.  My Marco couldn’t remember me...But it was okay, because he grew to like me.  I think I prefer him not remembering, not waking up in fear of what had happened, or worse.  When we moved in, he didn’t question me waking up in the middle of the night to curl up next to him in bed, but he said he didn’t mind at all.  It was most calming to look into his beautiful brown eyes…

 

   It was as I was staring at his eyes that it hit me.  Marco wouldn’t be this level of perfection forever.  He could die at any minute.  Or worse, he could grow into an old, bitter person, and no longer be my Marco.  I was so scared of losing him, of losing my Marco, that I just...I had to keep him safe.  He was so absolutely perfect, I had to make sure he would always be perfect.  My perfect Marco, always and forever.

 

* * *

 

   I don’t think the morgue initially noticed when I was slowly sneaking out tools.  My boss, Mr Smith, chalked it up to miscounting our supplies, at least at the beginning.  I quit before he could get proof that I was stealing, though.  At least I hope it was before he found proof.  Either way, I was over the moon.  Marco, my beautiful perfect Marco, would always be at this exact level of perfect...Except for his eyes.  His eyes were turning cloudy and empty, losing their perfection.  That was my initial reason for stealing tools from work, so I could perfect Marco’s eyes.  At least one of them had to be perfect, just like my last memory of him from our previous life.  I’m a bit mad at myself still for having such shaky hands at this point.  But Marco wasn’t mad at me, he never could be…

 

   At least, I never thought he could be mad at me.  It was a week after I perfected his left eye (it was in a jar on my bedside table, close enough that I could always see it when I woke up from my nightmares), and I had just bought a spare heater.  The girl at the store had given me a strange look for buying a heater at the beginning of the summer (June 16th, Marco’s birthday, I had to do something special for him, he was always so cold now), but whatever.  I still had to prepare a great dinner tonight, and I babbled over the phone to Marco (he hadn’t gotten to the phone in time, so I left him a message on our machine) about how I was going to try a new recipe that he had asked me to try a while ago.  I wasn’t the best cook, but Marco always said I was a much better chef than he was, so it was worth a shot.

 

   I was still in the kitchen, impatiently watching the roast in the oven, when I heard him call out to me.  The sound of his voice made my heart pound, but I was so glad to hear him talk to me again, that I just about sprinted to see to him.  He was still in our bedroom, but he was standing now, in all his perfect glory.  But I had never seen him look so angry before, not even in my memories of our old life.  It was...Exciting, to see him like that, but I didn’t want him angry at me.  Never would I have wanted him to be mad at me.

 

   “Jean...Look at what you’ve done to me.”  He said, his left hand covering his eye.  I was looking, I was definitely looking very hard at him.  It had been so long since I’d seen him stand without me having to hold him up.  I was so overjoyed.

   “I am looking at you Marco!  Look at how perfect you are...You’ve never looked more perfect.”  I squealed at him, bouncing over to his side and reaching for his hand.  I held his right hand for half a second before he snatched it away, and that’s when I realized something must be very off with him.  He always loved holding hands with me…

 

   “Jean, you killed me!” He shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation.  I made myself not focus on the deep slash across his throat, and it hurt remembering that I’d done that...Instead, I hurried over to our dresser, and grabbed one of the many eye patches I had attempted to make look like his other eye.  This one was a lot more realistic looking, which was proof that spending months attempting to match was worth it.

 

   “Here, sweetheart, try this one on, I think it almost matches,” I cooed, reaching up to put it on him myself.  It was weird seeing Marco stand on his own, but I almost started crying with delight when his hand encircled my wrists.  His hands were so strong, I didn’t even try to fight as he pulled me into the kitchen.  “Marco, dinner’s not ready yet, the roast still has another twenty minutes…” I whined, not wanting him to ruin the surprise I had waiting for him.  I hadn’t even had time to light the candles on the table!  Marco let me go suddenly, and I hurried past him to hide the small black box I’d left just sitting on the counter like an absolute moron.  I sighed; might as well do it now, he’s probably guessed what it is already.  Can’t hide anything from Marco.

 

   “I was gonna wait until after dinner…” I said slowly, turning back to him.  He had moved over to the cutting board, where I’d left the knife I’d been using to cut the gross fatty pieces out of the roast.  I cleared my throat as he picked the knife up, he was smiling so brightly when he looked up at me.  I had to do it now, or I’d wuss out.

   “Marco, my love, I’d do anything for you.  You’re so absolutely perfect, I’d find a way to wrangle the moon for you if it was what you wanted.”  I was starting to sweat now, heart pounding as Marco moved closer to me.  “I...I’ve always loved you, you know that.  I’ve loved you in every life we’ve shared together, and hell, I’ll love you when I die.  Will you marry me?”  I squeaked out the question, back against the wall with barely an inch of space between our chests.  Marco’s eye was shining with joy, and I felt my heart swell even as he pressed the flat side of the knife harshly against my throat.

 

   “Of course, Jean,” Marco started, leaning closer until his lips barely brushed against mine.  “But...You have to die first.”  He added, and I nodded frantically.  Anything for my perfect Marco.  I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him, as he ripped my throat open and the world turned red and black.

 

* * *

  


   I’m not sure how much time passed between the kiss and me waking up.  I never actually asked how long it took, but Marco was there when I opened my eyes, and I couldn’t have been happier.  He had actually put the eye patch on while I was out, and it almost looked like his real eye was still there.  I guess at least twenty minutes had passed though, since the roast was out of the oven and Marco was grinning at me from where he was sitting, admiring the ring I had gotten him.

 

   “Do you like the ring, baby?” I croaked out, frowning at the raspiness of my voice.  He nodded, and it took a few seconds for me to remember how to work my legs, but I eventually made it to his side.  Marco leaned his head against my shoulder, and we both stared at the ring on his finger in silence.  Giddy silence on my part, but I think Marco was more of a contemplating silence.  I looked down at myself, and holy hell was I covered in a lot of blood.  I vaguely remembered Marco looking similarly a week ago, when I had made sure he would always remain absolutely perfect.

 

   “I’m really glad it worked,” Marco said suddenly.  I had no clue what it was, but if Marco was happy about ‘it’ working, then I was happy too.  I told him as much, and he just smiled and laughed, before nudging me and telling me that we had to go.

   “Go where?” I asked, laughing as he chased behind me and pinched my butt to get me to move faster.  A secret, he said, but we wouldn’t be coming back.  I trusted him though, so with a shrug I grabbed up a suitcase and stuffed it full of essentials, grabbed the jar with his eye, and left.

 

   “Alright, Mr Hot Shot, can you tell me where we’re going now?”  I asked as he started up the car.  It was weird, that Marco wanted to drive, he usually hated doing so, but I couldn’t deny him anything.

   “Got a job for us,” he grumbled a little frustratedly as he fumbled the car out of the parking spot and onto the road.  I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed with the car, or with whatever ‘job’ he had apparently gotten for us. “Don’t worry sweetheart, first we’ll get married.  Vegas, baby!”  He whooped, and I couldn’t help but laugh as well.  

 

I was on cloud nine, with my angel driving us straight to hell.

 

 


End file.
